


hit me like a ray of sun

by vivilove



Series: Silver Linings in the Zombie Apocalypse [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Fear of Death, Fear of Illness, Jon freaks out a bit, Love, Zombies are only mentioned, but things are a bit more intense in this one, clairvoyant bran stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: “You wanted privacy earlier,” she says half-jokingly as they lay out their sleeping bags on the living room floor.There’s beds upstairs but they’re afraid of getting trapped on a second floor if they’re not as alone as they think. A bed would be comfortable after so many nights of their sleeping bags and far more comfortable for making love but that’s not where either of their heads are tonight.And, there’s a fireplace down here. Jon’s already built them a fire. It’s cozy. It’s late December and they’re somewhere safe for tonight (they hope) and got a fire going.If only there was cocoa. If only we weren’t waiting to see if I’m about to become a zombie.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Silver Linings in the Zombie Apocalypse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936225
Comments: 47
Kudos: 96





	hit me like a ray of sun

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry but I can’t seem to leave this AU behind me which is funny if you knew how horrified I am by zombie stuff 😂. I hope some of you are enjoying it 🤞💕

_“They’re looking for us. We’re one of the largest groups of survivors left in this area. They want to find us. They want to know if we’re immune.”_

_“Who wants to know if we’re immune, Bran?”_

Her little brother had smiled and said, _“Everyone. I can see them. I can see them in here.”_

Bran had pointed to his head after whispering those words to just the five of them ten days ago.

Sansa can still remember the way Robb had held Bran’s hand and asked, _“How do you see them, Bran?”_

_“I don’t know. I just do. We must be careful. We’ve got to keep each other safe.”_

Keep each other safe. That's what they're all trying to do.

Nan had told them to leave her in the woods when they’d finally been forced to abandon their campsite in the national park at last with the first blizzard.

_“Winter is coming but we’re a family now, Nan,”_ her brother had said in reply. _“No one’s getting left behind.”_ No one had argued with him.

Winter is coming.

Surviving the mountains in nothing but tents with supplies scarce didn’t seem very viable.

But returning to the city has led to more danger it seems. Despite hopes that the cold would make the walkers less active, it appears they’re still everywhere. It’s almost like they thrive on the cold…or like something is drawing them to their group.

Sansa had just barely fallen asleep last night, been right on the edge of dreams, when her eyes had opened quickly at Jon’s shout.

An abandoned warehouse.

No. What had _appeared_ to be an abandoned warehouse.

But just as they’d all got settled, the walkers had come out of a nearby subway entrance. They must’ve smelled the living. More than sixty of them had surrounded the place. The walls weren’t sturdy enough. The windows were too many to keep them all out. They’d had to run for their lives.

They’d lost two members of their group, Heward and Joseth.

It feels like all they’ve done is run lately. Place to place, they’re never safe for long.

Sansa’s eyes dart towards the newest member of their group, Ramsay. He’d joined them as they’d been making their way back to civilization, a muscular, pale-eyed man who’d been wearing an expensive, ill-fitting suit, now filthy and ragged.

He said he’d been in accounting before the end of the world. He doesn’t look much like an accountant. What had mattered to Robb though was that he had good aim and was among the living. Plus, he knows this city, has a lot of maps and suggestions.

He speaks sweet words but his smiles never meet his eyes. Sansa hates the way he’s always buzzing in Robb’s ear. Jon hates the way he looks at Sansa.

Ramsay had had watch last night along with Tom, one of the less bright bulbs in their bunch. Interesting…

“We’ll stay here tonight. Tomorrow night too if we can so everyone can rest,” Robb announces after he, Jon and Dacey have finished their thorough sweep of the house a little ways out of town.

Sansa hugs herself with relief. She’s so tired from running today. She wants to put those wretched creatures and their growls and endless moans far from her mind. She’s still wiping away tears born of exhaustion and fear when Jon slides down the wall beside her to take a seat on the floor.

“Nan?” she asks, barely holding it together.

Between Grenn and Hodor, the two men have been carrying the oldest member of their band of survivors as often as she’s been walking anywhere since they came to the city.

“She’s fine.”

He wraps an arm around her, buries his nose in her hair. Her hair needs a good wash and doesn’t smell as sweet as it would’ve once upon a time but Jon doesn’t seem to care. That’s his own way of escaping and putting it behind him, she’s discovered.

“Where’s Ghost?”

“Right here.”

And he is. The dog comes up to her, nuzzling into her free side. He’s never far from them. They would’ve had even less warning last night if not for the dog. He watches out for them all but he’s Jon and Sansa’s companion.

“I miss the woods,” she tells Jon, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder.

“I do, too,” he murmurs. “I miss the privacy of our tent.”

He waggles his eyebrows and, ordinarily, she’d laugh but she can’t tonight. She needs to tell him.

“What is it?” He’s gotten pretty good at reading her.

“I’ve got a scratch that I don’t know where…”

“Robb, come here!"

Her older brother, their leader, comes over at once, squatting down between them. She hates the attention, hates that everyone is turning to look.

It’s on her calf, just a scratch but a pretty significant one. She hadn’t noticed it until she’d sat down. It’s probably nothing…except she doesn’t know where she got it.

They’d barely made it out last night and they’ve been on the run all day with some close calls. If one of them scratched her, it’s not the same as a bite but she might still wind up infected with the virus, the virus that will kill her and turn her into one of them.

She looks to Jon, trying to keep the rising tide of hysteria at bay. Looking at him isn’t helping. He looks lost, ready to lose his mind.

Her brother rakes his hands through his hair. “Does it hurt, Sans?”

“No.”

That could be good or bad. Sometimes, the infected spots go numb as the virus takes hold. It does hurt a little but it’s minor. It’s just kind of there.

“If she’s infected, we could amputate before…” she hears Grenn suggest.

“Fuck no,” Jon hisses at him.

She feels dizzy. Grenn isn’t being cruel. He probably figures losing a foot is better than becoming a walker. Sansa doesn’t want to become a walker but who the hell wants to think about losing a foot?

“We’ll watch her,” Robb decides. “We’ll look for any signs and then we’ll…” He swallows hard, unable to meet her eyes. “We’ll do what’s best.”

“You should isolate her for everyone’s safety,” Ramsay says.

“She’s not a rabid dog,” Robb answers while Jon’s snarling like that hypothetical dog. Ghost snarls, too.

“No, but some people…when the virus starts attacking their brains…”

She’s shuddering again. Ramsay seems to enjoy making people’s flesh creep with worst case scenarios even though they all know this one.

Back when it all started, back when people were just starting to catch on to the extreme dangers of the virus that brought this about and that more people were susceptible to it than the government had let on, there were stories of people coming down with it and going mad, all in the space of a day. They’d bite and scratch others, family and caregivers, as if the virus wanted them to infect as many people as possible before it took them out.

“We’re safer together,” Bran says from behind Robb. “All of us together worries them.”

“Worries who? Those things can’t think. It won’t hurt her to spend a few hours apart for everyone’s safety. If that happened last night or today, another twenty-four hours at most should tell the tale,” Ramsay suggests. In twenty-four hours, she could be perfectly well or dead. “I know a place nearer town where she could be kept safe. I’d watch over her for you and if…”

“No,” Jon says.

He doesn’t shout.

He doesn’t snap.

But the finality of that one word makes everyone near them straighten and look reprimanded.

“Whatever we need to do, I’m staying with her. I’ll take her elsewhere tonight.” Jon gives Bran and Robb a reassuring look. “Then, we’ll both come back, alright?”

**

An hour later, they’ve moved again. Originally, Jon had told Robb they’d head to the east. There was a neighboring house within sight and everyone had assumed they’d head there.

Instead, Jon had turned them west once they were out of sight of the house. She’s not sure why Jon told Robb and the group one thing and did the other but she trusts Jon’s judgment and is a little too preoccupied to quiz him.

This house, a little farmhouse, is nearly two miles away. Ghost has sniffed the whole place down for them. Whoever lived here is long gone and there’s no signs of walkers here. Sansa’s glad of that. Another thirty minutes of walking after their long day. She’d almost be ready to lie down and let them take her at this point.

“You wanted privacy earlier,” she says half-jokingly as they lay out their sleeping bags on the living room floor.

There’s beds upstairs but they’re afraid of getting trapped on a second floor if they’re not as alone as they think. A bed would be comfortable after so many nights of their sleeping bags and far more comfortable for making love but that’s not where either of their heads are tonight.

And, there’s a fireplace down here. Jon’s already built them a fire. It’s cozy. It’s late December and they’re somewhere safe for tonight (they hope) and got a fire going.

_If only there was cocoa. If only we weren’t waiting to see if I’m about to become a zombie._

Jon sits down on top of his and reaches for her hand. She drops down beside him, lets him hold her, lets his flannel catch a few tears. “I don’t want to die but don’t let me…if I’m sick, please. I don’t want to be one of them. Please, Jon. Don’t let me…” Jon's a very good shot. She probably wouldn't feel a thing. 

She looks up to see he’s staring at her. “You’re fine. You’ve not got it,” he tells her, his voice gruff and insistent.

“I’m fine. I don’t have it,” she says back.

What else are they supposed to say? They’re scared to death as it is.

They lie down, holding each other close as Ghost nestles down at her back. Her man and their dog keeping her safe and surrounded.

“I don’t trust Ramsay, Jon.”

“Neither do I.”

“Is that why we went a different way?” He nods. “My brothers and sister and everyone else we love is with him and…”

“Robb knows my opinion. They’re all watching him, your sister closest of all.”

If Arya’s watching Ramsay and Ramsay’s not what he says he is, it might end very badly for Ramsay. Still, Sansa’s a bundle of anxiety thinking about it.

The fire cracks and pops. The only sounds outside are a few gusts of wind on the winter’s night. They should sleep. They’re both so tired. Neither can seem to.

An old grandfather clock chimes two. They’ve been quiet a long while but Jon’s breathing hasn’t evened out like it does when he’s asleep.

He presses his lips against her temple. There’s a small choking sound and she feels his warm, wet tears as he buries his face in her hair again. “You’re everything that keeps me going. You’re my sunshine, Sansa. Did you know that? You’re everything that’s still bright and lovely in this world for me.”

Jon’s not big on declarations or flowery words. This is a lot from him but she knows he’s sincere. She feels exactly the same way. “I know, I know.”

“I used to think we’d never…I used to believe I could never, ever have you and this is…you’re mine and I’m yours. I never thought I’d get that.”

“I never knew I wanted it until we reunited and now it’s…you’re everything I want. You’re what keeps me going. You’re my sunshine, too.”

“No one has ever called me their sunshine.”

“What a shock,” she deadpans.

He scowls for a second and then they both start cackling like mad. Jon is sweet and considerate at times. He’s clever and quick. He is also pragmatic, blunt when necessary. She doesn’t think anyone would ever describe Jon’s personality as sunny.

After their laughter subsides, they listen for a few minutes, making sure they’re still alone here in the quiet winter night.

“No scratch is taking you away from me, Sansa. You’ve not got it. Bran thinks some of us are immune to the virus. I think he might be right. We’re going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

**

Dawn arrives a few hours later, a sunny winter’s day. Sansa steps out onto the front porch of the little farmhouse and looks to the east where the sun is rising and the rest of her living family is.

The living. That’s what she is and what she plans to go on being. The sunlight warms her face. The scratch itches faintly…like something does when it’s healing.

Jon comes out with two steaming mugs. “Found these packets in the pantry. Boiled the water in a kettle over the fire. Sorry, there’s no marshmallows.”

“Never mind the marshmallows today,” she hums happily, taking one mug of hot cocoa from him, letting her hope shine brightly for them both today. “We’ll find them somewhere along the way.”

“Somewhere along the way. Yeah, I’m sure we will.”

They’re sipping their cocoa. They’ll spend the rest of the day here to be safe until the sun starts to set and then see about rejoining the others.

Jon casually mentions the beds upstairs, how big and comfortable one of them appears. Sansa casually mentions how poorly she slept.

Laughter. The empty cocoa mugs are left on the railing of the porch as they race each other up the stairs, clothes littering the floor and an excited dog barking at their antics.

She’s just fallen back onto the soft quilt with Jon climbing over her when they hear gunshots in the distance…coming from the east.


End file.
